The Crow
by Wolfcharm
Summary: The Scarecrow, one of the most notorious villains in all of Gotham has been safely delivered to Arkham. And Lizzie will do whatever it takes to get inside his mind. But at what cost will the Scarecrow's doctor have to pay to figure out what he has on his mind and more importantly will she be able to seperate his mind from hers? CranexOC M for mature scenes, violence, & language.
1. You Never Forget Your First

**The Crow**

_**I usually put a note here, but I can't think of much except, rated M for violence, language, sexual content.**_  
_**I'd like to put on record that yeah the Scarecrow doesn't have many (if any) emotional ties and/or emotions, but this is mine so no flame outs.**_

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**You Never Forget Your First**

"Dr. Elizabeth Aiken, patient interview number one."

Lizzie started her first tape, it amazed her how they still had these old fashioned tape-recorders, but they looked so retro she didn't really mind using them. "Second year out of college and I'm already here," she said, her voice a little breathless with excitement. "Arkham Asylum and interviewing Mr. Jonathan Crane AKA Scarecrow, I've reviewed his files and I have a feeling that he will be a challenge."

There was a knock on her office door. "One second!" she called. "I have a feeling that he is actually sane, that it's just an obsession that he has to get over, come in!"

There he was, being escorted by two guards, his sharp blue eyes already scrutinizing her deep blue eyes. She saw a flicker of a grin, but it was gone within a second. They sat him down forcefully and stood on either side of him. "Please, you can leave us," Lizzie said and made little shooing motions with her hand.

"I'm afraid not, Miss," one of the guards said. "Warden's orders."

Lizzie sighed. She really was hoping for some one on one. "Fine, could you at least give some space, just go stand by the door," she said.

The guards nodded and headed for the door. One of the guards couldn't help sneaking a peak at her exposed cleavage. She was barely dressed for the part, her coat was completely open, her white shirt buttoned down to the middle and the black tank top under it didn't cover up much either. Lizzie followed the guard's eyes and smiled knowingly, she brought her eyes up to meet his and she licked her lips seductively. Crane's eyes never left her face. Lizzie turned back to him and gave a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that," she said and started to scribble things down. "Some boys."

"Anyway, I'm Dr. Elizabeth Aiken," she said and reached her hand across the desk to the man across from her.

Crane looked at her hand and shook it silently. Now it was her turn to scrutinize. Jonathan Crane wasn't exactly the big, scary, criminal master-mind that she always imagined him to be. _I guess the master of fear would look a little sallow,_ she thought. So he was, a little sallow in the face and thin and stick-like, but in an attractive way, he still had an aristocratic nose, but it did have the signs that it had been broken a few times. His eyes were so clear and a wicked blue that looked like they really could see what you were afraid of. "And you're Jonathan Crane," she finished. "So let's start off the bat, how are you today?"

Crane chuckled and relaxed a little bit. "I feel slightly disappointed," he said. "I'm a criminal master-mind and they threw me an amateur, it's almost unfair."

Lizzie was interested now and she smiled slightly. "Yeah, not two years out of college and they throw me to the sharks," she said.

She was hoping to catch him off guard by admitting a few things to him. "Maybe they thought you wouldn't hurt a little girl," she suggested.

Crane leaned in and the smell of his cologne wafted to her. It was heady and musky, Lizzie tried to lean away a bit. "We both know that's not true," Crane whispered.

The smile he gave her was so eerie and knowing, it made her heart stop for a second. She knew what she said was complete bullshit, but she didn't expect such a confident response. _No preference on age or gender,_ she wrote. She had read that a few times in his record, but she wanted to see for herself. "So Mr. Crane," she began. "Tell me about yourself, besides your extensive experiments, what else do you like to do?"

This was probably one of the stupidest questions she would ask, but if it would elicit some positive response then she would go with it. Crane only stared at her for awhile, but then he leaned back again and smiled. "You're not like the others," he stated and the smile kept growing more sinister. "I like to read."

"Let me guess, a lot of horror stories and you probably like horror movies too," she countered.

It was another trick she learned, making stereotypical assumptions to make your patient react. "I don't have time for such trivial pursuits," Crane replied now losing interest.

"So then medical journals or psychology articles?" Lizzie kept probing. "Something a little more cerebral?"

Crane looked back at her. He wasn't necessarily bored, but his eyes still looked like they could linger anywhere else, but her. He only huffed and turned his head away. "I can't help you if you're going to be so stuck up," Lizzie quipped and leered at him.

Crane turned back, his smile at its most sinister. In this moment she understood why he had called himself "Scarecrow", that smile looked as crooked and sinister as a Halloween Jack-O-Lantern. "You think you can help?" he asked. "What makes you think there's anything to help?"

Lizzie was taken aback by that question, many of his doctors have claimed that he wasn't insane at all, he just enjoys watching people suffer through their worst fears. She had that feeling too. But it was more like an acute obsession with fear, but she wanted to believe that he was trying to find a cure for fear. As impossible and ludricous as it sounded, a scientist is usually trying to find an end to the means. Maybe a "cure" was what he was looking for. "No, not really," she stated. "I think help depends on the person, if he wants help."

Crane's smile faltered a bit and he stood from his chair and leaned so close to me that I his cologne came down in clouds. I tried not to cough, but it was extremely hard on my part. "I don't need or want help," he growled.

His breath was hot and tickled my face. "You are afraid now," he whispered. "You are very afraid of me, afraid of what I can do, what I have done, you're afraid about me being so close to you."

Some of that was true. I wasn't really afraid of him, yes I was afraid about what he could do to me, what he could make me see. I was really afraid about his closeness. That his hand could just lash out and hurt me, strangle me, strike me, anything. "Yes, yes, I'm afraid," I admitted. "Does that make you happy, make you feel excited, that I can be so easily afraid of you?"

Crane's smile vanished and he sat back in his chair. "And if it does, what will you think?" he countered.

I nodded and started jotting things down. "I won't think any less of you if that's what you're getting at," I said.

"Of course, you already think so less of me already," Crane remarked.

"That's not true, Jon," I said. "I have the highest respect for you."

Crane's head whipped around to me his eyebrows were raised so high, they nearly disappeared into his hairline. It wasn't until this moment that I realized what I had said. Using his first name, not just his first name, a nickname! I cleared my throat and kept writing my notes. Crane just stared at me. "Respect?" he asked.

"Like I have respect for a wild animal," I said. "Like a tiger or a crow, it could hurt me and it can make me afraid, but I know that it fears me as well as I fear it."

Crane snorted and turned his head away. "But you're not an animal, are you Johnathan?" I said. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

Crane leaned forward and put his elbows on the desk. "No," he said blankly.

He leaned away and his body relaxed. "That's good," I said. "Then there should be a way to establish trust."

Crane's eyes widened and he screwed up his face as if he was tasting something terrible. "After all, if you're not afraid of me, then you shouldn't be suspicious of me, then I might be able to help you more," I countered.

I was twisting his words, it was a dirty trick, but it wasn't like he wouldn't do the same. "It seems our time is up, Mr. Crane," I said and shut my notebook. "You may return to your cell."

Crane stood up and the guards took his arms before leading him out. "Watch yourself girl, you don't want to make an enemy of me."

I watched them lead him out and sighed when the door closed behind them. "End of session one, evidence of narcissistic behavior and obvious trust issues," I said into the recorder. "He has an air of arrogance and overconfidence that doesn't really suit him, I'm hoping that if I break down the wall of confidence I might get somewhere."

Did I really think that? Not really, I just wanted to feed my superiors something. But I was going to crack open the Scarecrow, even if it drove me insane.


	2. Grand Tour

**Grand Tour**

_**Now that Liz is acquainted with one of the inmates, it's time to show the others, right? P.S. I know I kinda switched P. in the last chapter, I'm sticking w/ First Person now. Unless I feel the need to switch, in which case I will give you more warning. Enjoy!**_

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Dr. Whistler marched in front of me as my wandering eyes lingered everywhere and anywhere they could. Gretchen stopped and I almost bumped into her as she took out her card key. "I didn't really get a good look at the asylum, I'm really thankful that you're doing this for me," I said.

Gretchen turned back to me and gave a small smile of reassurance. "Just stay close and don't get too interested in the inmates, they seem tapped out of reality, but they notice when someone takes interest," she said and lead me through the ward.

I scoped out every cell as I passed. Most of them were custom made for the patients'... "needs". Such as Waylin Jones AKA Killer Croc, he was confined to the equivalent of a fish tank and Victor Freeze's was a giant freezer. The others have made their own decor. The Mad Hatter had hung up clocks of all sizes and designs, The Riddler had written riddles all over his walls, and so on. I did catch a glimpse of these criminals, but it wasn't much to look at. Most were in their own worlds or they were just lounging or sleeping. When we approached the Joker's cell, I gulped and my eyes were glued to the cell. Joker was lounging and whistling merrily as we passed. He caught my eye and smiled wide. I shivered. "So how was old Jonathan?" he spoke.

I stopped and stared. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Just what I ask, good Doctor," he sneered.

"He was fine," I said and crossed my arms.

"Hmph, I'll bet," he continued. "You really shouldn't be talking about him, he's in the next cell."

I blushed furiously. "You're the one that brought him up!"

The Joker started to laugh and I started to back away. "Freak," I muttered.

I walked away hurriedly, but I couldn't help myself from looking into Jonathan's cell. He was there and he stared at me as I passed him. I felt a little bit ashamed, but I barely said anything about him, so why did I feel so guilty. "How are you Jonathan?" I asked.

"Our session was over a few hours ago, Miss Aiken," he snarled and went back to scribbling in a notebook.

I wondered vaguely what was in it, most likely plans to take over Gotham and what not, then I wondered why would the doctors or the guards allow him to plan? I guess it showed how much this asylum really cared about curing their patients. "I'm sorry," I whispered, even though I knew he couldn't hear me.

Gretchen swiped her card through another door and we entered what looked like the surviellence room. A camera in each cell and several in the hallways and three on each entrance and exit. This place had a thing for security, but clearly the inmates knew how to get passed them. I sighed and didn't say a word. "The surveillence room, it doesn't do much, but it doesn't hurt," she said.

You knew things were bad when even one of the elite doctors admitted that the security system sucked. Gretchen turned to me and smiled again before closing the door and retreating back down the hallway. Apparently we were going to go down to the basement. I shivered. I wasn't a fan of basements, but I guess I had to see everything. It was just as gloomy as I thought it would be, if not more, Gretchen even had the good grace to show me the morgue and infirmary. The morgue creeped me out to no end. Thinking of people dying, especially in here, I couldn't imagine a more horrible death.

After that we went back up to the first floor and I went back to my office to review my notes of the session. It was about the same as everything else. Well, I didn't want to spend all night there, so I grabbed my bag and coat and started for the door. I wanted one more look at Crane though, for some reason I just wanted to observe him inside his cell... "Come back for seconds?" the Joker asked as I walked by.

I growled and ignored him, even as he pressed his hands to the glass and kept watching me with that creepy smile. I poked my head around, but Crane was asleep. I never saw him as a sleeper, but maybe it was just very boring being cooped up in a tiny cell. I doubt it was true sleep though, one hand was behind his head and one on his chest. While he was breathing peacefully. "Don't go there, Doc," the Joker piped up. "You know where that road leads to as well as I."

I looked over at the Joker and glared at him. "Yes, but unlike your blonde bimbo, I'm not nearly as dumb or trusting," I said confidently.

The Joker's smile flickered for a second, but returned if not more sinister and more strained. I was a little curious at that, the Joker wasn't supposed to feel love or any semblance of affection and yet, when I insulted Harley he reacted. "Hmmmm, perhaps not, but I see it, your interest in him," he continued. "I also see how much you love torturing yourself, quite the masochist aren't you?"

I stared blankly at him, then a wide toothless grin stretched across my face. His face was just pushed so close to the glass... I couldn't resist. My hand came back and then slammed onto the glass, shaking it and making Joker jump back slightly. "How's that for masochist!" I said and started walking away.

"Oh you shouldn't have done that, Doc," I heard Joker's soft, creepy voice say. "You really shouldn't have done that."

I didn't look back as I walked out of the hall, even as Joker's laughter echoed behind me...


End file.
